Trinket
by YourRhineStoneEyes
Summary: I never thought that you would die, you told me that you were immortal. For some reason I had believed you.


You told me that you would never leave, but you lied about that three different times.

So why does it make me so angry that when you told me that you would never die that you had to break that promise too?

The only thing I have left of you is that stupid inverted cross you always used to wear, I blame this stupid necklace for everything.

Sort of how you used to blame me for everything.

If you had never made a deal with the Devil then I wouldn't be crying and you wouldn't be dead.

You weren't even that human towards the end.

I want to say that I regret you making that deal, but if you hadn't then I never would have met you.

I don't regret meeting you, I wish I was more angry at you for hitting me with your car; I wish I was more angry at you for a Hell of a lot of things.

I'm not though.

We were happy, not constantly but we had our moments.

We had moments where you were somehow really charming, because you weren't stressed out over something.

In the beginning it wasn't too bad, you were a bit of a bastard, but nothing I couldn't handle.

In my eyes you were God, you knew that, and you loved that.

I wonder if you loved me yet or maybe I was just in that love sick puppy dog phase where I hoped that you loved me back.

We didn't have a whole lot in the way of romance; we didn't make love, we fucked, and every affection shown towards me was in secret.

You really did suck with showing how you felt.

The first time you left it surprised all of us, but it shocked me completely.

I didn't think that you hated me, that I disgusted you; not that badly anyway.

I told myself you hadn't meant it, you were doing what you always did best; keeping your emotions hidden.

When you returned you were different, Hell both of us were different, but especially you.

Your skin was green, ears sort of pointed, and you just seemed generally changed.

Plus now you had that stupid crow you said was a gift from Hell and you know what? I believed you.

It probably should have taken longer for me to forgive you, especially considering that you hardly apologized.

The most I got out of you was "Stu I had to go, clear my head. You understand, right mate?"

I didn't, but something in your mismatched eyes looked dumbly innocent and begging.

We had something different that second time around; some days you seemed more aggressive and other days you seemed nicer.

I sort of hated being treated like a dirty little secret, I was growing up; we both were, I just feared that we were growing apart.

I think that you feared that too, you spent more time around me. You became braver, you'd hold my hand more often, and I still swear to God that at one point you were going to tell me that you were in love with me.

You shared a lot with me, in the safety of darkness on your bed in that crappy little shack you called a second safe haven.

You surprised me with how cliche and girly you sounded when I asked what your first safe haven was and you said it was me.

When you told me that I figured you were joking or saying what I wanted to hear, but now I realize you were serious.

You hated being alone with your demons, including the one taking you over.

The second time that you left I didn't mind, can I really say that you left though?

I guess mentally you did, you weren't really right in the head in the first place.

I was the one who left Kong, we left, but you stayed and I never understood why that was.

This time I really did work on moving on and I grew up a lot in those years.

I went to rehab, I realized I was better off without you, and I even had a couple of healthy relationships.

Then you called after all those years, I threw my phone out of the window; I didn't want to hear your voice or chance you calling again.

It surprised me and pissed me off when you kidnapped me, I mean who does that?

While I was yelling at you for kidnapping me and forcing me to stay on that stupid landfill island with you, you only told me with this stupid little amused smile on your face that it was the only way to get me to talk to you.

You had changed, again, and I was never sure if you'd become more or less human.

Your teeth were almost all fangs, sharp threatening teeth; your tongue seemed more pointed.

Your skin was greener, ears more pointed, and both eyes were a deep red.

You were paranoid, you were angry, delusional, drunk, and stoned.

I thought you had been a wreck before, but God you were so much worse now.

Your mind was completely gone, I hated you for letting this happen to you; I blamed you for it. I blamed you for Noodle being gone and for the band breaking up, I finally began blaming you for ruining my eyes and for taking my girlfriends.

Did I mean it?

Not completely, I just wanted to hate you.

When I saw the songs you had been writing I stopped hating you, you rarely wrote our music.

The songs that you had written in the beginning, songs like Faust made me want to ask you if everything was okay.

Songs like Murdoc is God made me want to punch you in the face.

The songs like Broken and To Binge made me want to hold you and tell you everything would be okay.

Nothing would be okay.

You had created demons and enemies, you never asked for my help or our friends help. You kept these things to yourself thinking you could charm, shoot, or pay your way out of every situation.

Not only did you have people who wanted to hurt you, but you had demons as well.

Demons that didn't enjoy what you were becoming, but you never really told me what you were becoming.

I don't know when or why, but I got tired of hating you and fighting with you. I knew you only fought with me to get a rouse out of me.

I even told you one night when we were sitting outside that I was tired, you confessed to me that you were tired as well.

You began being honest with me again, not in the way I had wanted, but in a way that told me you trusted me.

You never explained the Black Clouds, the cyborg, Jimmy Manson, or the Boogieman.

You did tell me you were scared, scared of becoming something else, scared of losing me, and scared of yourself.

You cried, I held you and you held onto me like you feared I would just disappear.

Not that night, but a few nights later you confessed that you loved me.

You seemed so open and vulnerable in that moment, you seemed to relieved when I told you I felt the same way and always had.

That was the first night that we made love as cliche and lame as that may sound.

I was never really happy on your little waste land island, but I was happy to have you.

I don't know how much was left of you though, you were losing your sanity so quickly.

I fooled myself into thinking that I could do something about it, that I could help you.

Childish thought, I thought I had become smarter in our time apart.

The time finally came to leave your island, you were annoyed, but you were happy none the less.

Noodle was alive, pissed off at you, but she was alive.

Our strange family was back together, the four of us, and we'd found a new home.

I held your hand all the way home and when you glared at me I just grinned.

I fooled myself into thinking things would be okay again.

Things were tense for the first seven months of being together again, some nights you kept me close and others you pushed me away.

That was our new pattern; it lasted for the last two years of your life.

Some days you would come to me or I'd come to you, you'd be pissed for some reason that didn't exist outside of fear and delusion.

You would beat on me or just yell at me.

Other days you'd find me or I'd find you and we'd be okay; as okay as we could be.

A lot of nights and mornings I'd walk past your room and could hear you sobbing.

I'd risk getting hit by going inside, that room wasn't much of a room. It was more like an endless abyss of darkness, you told me it matched your soul.

You had a soul and a heart, they were just twisted.

I'd find you on your bed, curled up, and crying.

Even though I couldn't see anything in that room I could always find you.

I knew your body, I knew you more than you thought that I did.

I would hold you and try to comfort you, you'd tell me that you were afraid.

Back then I didn't know what you were afraid of, I thought maybe you were scared of going inside or maybe you thought I'd leave.

I held you, wiped away your tears, and told you that I loved you more than life itself.

The last time that I saw you alive you seemed different.

We were standing out on the balcony, early morning before anybody else was even awake.

We shared a cigarette and talked about pointless shit for a bit; for the first time in ages you smiled and laughed like you used to.

You thanked me for putting up with your shit, you told me I had to be either the dumbest or nicest person in the world.

For some reason I felt something was off and I just told you out of nowhere that I never wanted to lose you.

You smiled and looked at me, you looked younger, and in a weird way things were normal. You told me that you were immortal, you would never die.

I think you believed that lie almost more than I did.

You left the house after that, said there was something that you needed to do.

We figured that you would come back, but you didn't; we waited and by night time I was worried.

When we got the call from the hospital, the morgue I had to hand the phone off to Noodle. I couldn't answer the woman on the phone's questions, I sunk to the floor and after a moment of pure shock I began to cry.

We identified you, you're really easy to recognize.

Your body looked like Hell; years of your own abuse mixed with whatever had happened to you that led to your death.

The police and the mortician didn't have a clue; they came up with endless reasons that sounded too dumbly normal. Animal attack or some kid on PCP, basically any excuse they could pull out of their asses.

We knew better, we knew you were digging your own grave for years now. All of those rituals and deals, the way you were physically changing into something else and the way you were thinking things that were unknown to you completely.

I knew your demons would catch up with you, that they would tear you apart.

I had just hoped it'd be longer, maybe never.

They let me keep your necklace.

I moved all of my things into your room, I never put in a light; as lame as you'd think it is I like to put on one of your shirts when I go to bed.

I like to pretend that you're holding me, that you weren't killed by the creatures you taunted and ran from.

I like to pretend that you had never lied to me and that there was no third time.

I don't know when I'll stop crying or when I'll forgive you for leaving.

All I have left of you is this stupid little trinket that I wear around my neck.


End file.
